


Belonephobia - the Fear of Needles

by Inquisitor023



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: But it's mostly about Vicky/Oz, F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Technically all the Romance Options get a mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inquisitor023/pseuds/Inquisitor023
Summary: Titles aren't my strong suit. It's because Vicky is stitched together and Oz is made of fear. Sue me (please don't).Join me on my quest to put two characters without much of a defined personality at this time in the spotlight, forcing them to live through their dorky inability to handle their emotions, high school antics, friends and whatever else I've yet to think of.It promises to be like a Twinkie: overly sweet, fluffy and without much real substance.Feedback is always welcome and I hope you enjoy the ride.





	1. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three weeks of insanity, Monster Prom is here - and the opening act? Player Characters! Ready yourself for a night of adventure, friendship and the realisation that, eventually, this all comes to an end. 
> 
> Are you really ready for this to end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies it is somewhat short, but hopefully it engages. A bit thank you to the Monster Prom Discord for inspiring me to do things again - more specifically to my friends Taavi and Marcie. You're the best. After Vicky/Oz. Close second.
> 
> Always happy to hear comments and feedback because Lord knows it won't be perfect. I hope you enjoy the tale all the same.

_What if I told you that our world was gonna end-_

 “Thank you, Monster High!” The words echoed around the gym of Monster High for one brief moment, before the assembled student body let loose a great roar of approval in response.

“We’ve been Player Characters - with your drummer, Brian Yu!” In response to this, the band’s drummer - a tall, broad zombie in a dark green suit, simply held his arms into the air - tossing his drumsticks into the crowd. The slight damage to his face caused his face to creep into a smile at all times - but this time, it was genuine and warm.

“Your guitarist, Amira Rashid!” As her name was announced, Amira held her arms out - as fire danced between dark fingers and spread across her hands, to the edge of her black suit. The firelight glinted off gold buttons, in green eyes, and across a bold and bright grin. Where Brian soaked in the crowd’s cheers - like sinking into a warm bath - Amira let it crash over her, until it could’ve consumed her completely. And yet, she held her head high above the tide and drank in the feeling of victory, the sounds of the crowd. They were more than happy to oblige her.

“Your bassist, Oz!” This figure - lanky and dark - was possibly the most distinct of all three. Where Brian and Amira seemed to revel in this moment of triumph, Oz seemed like he almost desired to shy away from it - like he wanted to retreat into the darkness as well as his bright yellow suit would allow him. He didn’t, however - as a moment of resolve washed over him. After all, in spite of his anxiety, he prayed this moment would never end. He couldn’t smile (for his face lacked features beyond his eyes) but he held up an arm in recognition of the crowd’s affection. Smaller creatures - his phobias - danced across him, enjoying the attention much more than he was. Glossophobia - in his top hat - was mimicking air guitar, much to the enjoyment of the few members of the audience close enough to see it.

“And me,” the final figure concluded, as her pale green and stitched hand tightened on the microphone, “your stunning vocalist, Vicky Schmidt!” As the words left her lips, she started into a short spin - causing her black and white dress to spin and weave with the sheer electric energy she exuded. If you had never met Vicky and saw her only at this moment, you could be convinced she was made to play this role - to stand up and hold the attention of every soul (and soulless entity) present. “And if anyone wants to buy us a drink, we’ll happily accept!”

_\- And you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or all your friends -_

It was maybe ten minutes after the four friends had ended their set. Since then, they had settled down to a table, after having to fight their way through the crowds of fellow students (including, an animated suit of armour they weren’t familiar with - who had stopped them to say how ‘rad’ their cover of ‘Smooth Criminal’ had been, before asking if they were thinking of any student in particular when they chose the song.)

“We,” Amira began - the grin from performing still splitting her face, “are rock stars.”

“Uh - I think rock stars get paid in more than cheap beer,” Brian countered, leaning back in his chair as he sipped from the bottle. Amira glared at the zombie’s retort, as Oz and Vicky tried to choke down the giggle that came from Brian’s deadpan retort. “Don’t ruin my moment, Brian.”

“Beer today, and big Monster Bucks next time, right?” Vicky cut in, raising her bottle in cheers. The rest of the party all returned the gesture, replying in enthused affirmatives… before a soft silence fell upon them.

Next time… Would there really _be_ a next time? Senior Year, the end of the show… It came so quickly.

Amira was the first to break the awkward silence, draining the last of her beer and standing to rise. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go find Valerie.”

“Wait, Valerie? The shopkeeper?” Oz asked, slightly astonished. It dawned on him he’d seen less of the Oberlin at lunchtime than usual, but he figured Valerie might have been caught up in that whole bank robbery thing that Vera definitely didn’t convince Calculester to assist in. It was serious enough for the pair to skip Prom to let the heat die down, but nothing stopped Valerie. “She’s your date?”

“The very same,” Amira confirmed, devilry ablaze in her grin. “What can I say - I just love me some pu-”

“Don’t you dare make that joke!” Vicky interrupted, barely restraining the laugh which Amira promptly joined. “Well, have fun. Be safe.”

“You’re not her mother,” Brian reminded Vicky, as Amira sauntered off into the throng. “But I’m going to go too.” As he said that, he proceeded to crack stiff joints and stretch dead limbs, rising from his chair. “I promised Liam we would go and mock the Prom King and Queen.”

That revelation was less surprising. Brian and Liam had been a good fit for one another, even before the three weeks of madness that had gripped Monster High in the lead-up to Prom. At that, Oz and Vicky shared a knowing look. Those two would go far.

“Tell him we said hi,” Oz offered, the shifting shadows of his face approximating a smile. “Though he’d probably find it so **mainstream.** ” Vicky snorted at that - and even Brian shared a chuckle.

“Yeah, he would.” When the words left his mouth, it was Brian’s turn to cast a knowing look over the two remaining members of _Player Characters._ Of course, what that look entailed neither Vicky nor Oz really knew. Yet… Brian seemed satisfied. With what had been, or what was to come, no one could really guess. All the same, he raised his hand in a sign of goodbye - and disappeared in pursuit of a truly lovable dork.

_\- It’s my fear that we’ll need to use the phone -_

As Brian slipped away, Vicky and Oz looked at one another for a moment - before Vicky smiled for the both of them. “And then there was the two dateless dorks, huh?”

“I mean, dorks is definitely true but- dateless?” Oz asked, somewhat surprised. “I thought you asked Scott.”

The smallest flush of colour entered into Vicky’s cheeks then, as she dropped her head to examine the fascinating Naruto x Garfield setpiece that Zoe had somehow convinced the Prom Committee to use. “I did, but as friends. He’s great but I couldn’t date him.” Once again, Oz paused - examining Vicky intently. Even his phobias joined in the staring contest. It was hard for Vicky not to feel part flustered, and part defensive, at the sudden attention. “What?”

“I would let him do **devastating** things to me,” Oz explained, “And you convinced him to go to Prom with you. As a friend.”

Vicky scoffed sarcastically, eyebrows raised in bemused defiance. “You’d be **doing** devastating things right now if you had actually asked Polly out like you said you would.” Oz almost physically reeled from the comment - as true as it was. “Don’t look so hurt, I feel bad.” She reached out then, taking Oz’s hand. He returned the gesture, giving a soft squeeze instinctively. “I never asked but - why didn’t you ask her?”

The question Oz knew would be coming and, yet, he still didn’t have an answer for. Not really… not one he could share. “I just… decided against it. I realised I didn’t really want to ask her.” Vicky didn’t respond - she just looked at him with kind and attentive eyes. He felt compelled to go on but… he couldn’t tell her, could he? “I thought I’d maybe ask y-,” he stopped himself for a split second, anxiety catching the word in his throat. “I thought I’d ask someone else but they seemed to be interested in someone else. I decided to just come and have fun tonight.” He let out a soft shrug at that point, his face turning slowly around the room before settling back to meet Vicky’s gaze.

Her expression hadn’t changed. It was still soft, still kind, still attentive. Content now that her best friend had finished speaking, she gave Oz’s hand a squeeze in sympathy. “I’m sure they would have said yes - whoever this mystery lover is.” Oz let his unspoken doubts stay silent, but he offered her his thanks anyway before changing the subject to something more mundane - like college.

It was at that moment that Oz’s unspoken doubts began to manifest. If the Fearling was aware, he gave no sign - but it was hard for Vicky to not notice. Another phobia - Autophobia, though Vicky didn’t know that - appeared, with a yellow bow tie. It blinked in the harsh light, turning on Oz’s shoulder before spotting the Frankenstein’s Monster that was its quarry. As it did, it made one simple gesture: it pointed at Vicky.

The gesture was enough to give Vicky a moment’s pause, as she puzzled over the gesture. Luckily, Oz had just been distracted by the sound of glasses shattering as a body was put through a table.

“Fuck off, Dahlia!” Damian roared, “I don’t want to fight you - I just want to get drunk and set this building on fire!”

“Yes, Princess Muscles!” Miranda followed, “I simply can’t have you spoiling my coronation! Can’t you simply have Damian assassinated like a _true_ Princess?”

The attempted regicide held Oz’s attention - who pondered if maybe he should try to help - as the lightning suddenly struck in Vicky’s head as to what Autophobia had been implying.

And she cursed herself for not somehow registering sooner. He wasn’t alone in how he felt - but that sentiment rang painfully true, as the same anxiety crept into Vicky.

It was the year of Senior Year. Soon - too soon, in fact - they would all go their separate views. Some, like her, had plans to go to Monster College. Oz hadn’t quite decided and planned to take a year to himself - working. Brian was much the same, though he didn’t really intend to go to college, while Amira fancied some globetrotting.

The foundation of their worlds was set to drift apart. They were set to drift apart.

And now, old feelings - long since set aside for fear they weren’t shared - surged up, eager to know they had been wrong. And yet… they hesitated, because was it worse to feel this and then lose it?

She realised then that Oz had turned back to look at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, head tilting in curiosity. “You seemed a million miles away.” Vicky crashed back into reality, catching herself up. Oz had released her hand - probably when he turned to see the noise. Dahlia was being led away by Coach, while Damien was adjusting his now slightly torn suit. Principal Giant Spider was lurking near the stage - probably getting ready to announce Prom King and Queen. No one seemed to notice them: it was just the two of them.

The pair of them - looking into one another’s eyes - were so in synch, it was painful to know they were unaware. For each of them, the pounding of their hearts was the loudest thing they’d ever heard - while the pain of it breaking threatened to overcome them. And yet, something fought back against it - deep inside. Memories of all the years they’d known one another, every memory and misadventure they had shared.

How natural it had felt. How right it had felt to be together.

She leaned forward and placed her hands on top of Oz’s. “Do you want to dance with me, Oz?”

_\- But who cares, we won’t be facing it alone._

  



	2. May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in Monstropolis was always an interesting time - full of absurd schemes to get into the last minute good graces of Satan Claws.
> 
> For Oz, however, he didn't care about that. He simply cared about his annual tradition with his best friend.

Christmas in Monstropolis was always an interesting time. After all, there’s nothing quite so majestic as watching a city full of monsters being their worst selves trying to claw back enough brownie points to appease Satan Claws so they could have gifts. It rarely worked out to their advantage, but Satan Claws was appreciative of the effort (and houses to break into) so they got gifts anyway, ensuring the cycle would continue. 

That, however, could not be further from the mind of the Fearling trekking along Monster Main Street. Instead, he was cursing the heavy snowfall that accompanied Winter every year. He cursed the cold, he cursed the slippy sidewalks and he cursed the fact that the water mains in his apartment had frozen and exploded. _Again._

“The snow comes every year,” he mumbled to himself, dragging a small travel suitcase behind him with one hand and adjusting the messenger bag across his chest with the other, “And the water main explodes every year. You would think that they might do something about it.” 

At least he had good friends he could rely on. Every year when this happened, and he had to leave his apartment, Vicky was kind enough to let him sleep on her couch for the few days while it was fixed. It was becoming borderline traditional - and Oz almost looked forward to it more than Christmas itself. After all, he was guaranteed to have company during the next few days - unlike Christmas.

He pushed that thought from his mind. After all, it made no sense to brood on the situation. Despite the snow, despite his water main, despite everything - Oz was happy. Excited. Vicky was his closest friend - and they’d know each other since Elementary School. Doing this felt comfortable, natural - and it was always the highlight of the season for Oz. The next few days would be a welcome reprieve from the thoughts of Prom, from homework and from life’s general anxieties. 

A boy and his best friend. What more could you ask for? 

Oz was grateful to finally reach Vicky’s apartment block, where the snow had melted under tossed salt of the janitorial staff (with the exception of a path left for Mr Fros Tee, the Snowman). He bounded up the stairs, coming face to face with Vicky’s door. He rapped lightly, one of his phobias - Frigophobia - leaning forward to do the same, but falling short. 

“Who is it?” Vicky called out from inside. She must have been doing something, else she might have come to the door herself. 

“It’s your charity case!” Oz called back, trying to brush off the worst of the snow clinging to his coat before he ended up trekking it all over Vicky’s house. A moment passed, two - before the door opened before him. 

Vicky smiled brightly at the Fearling as she opened the door, quickly holding her arms out for a hug that Oz quickly took. “If it isn’t Mister Breaks-His-Water-To-Hang-Out-With-His-Friend,” she teased before letting him go and stepping aside to let him in. 

Vicky’s apartment was an eccentric place that exuded cosiness. It bordered on a studio apartment in size, but it felt much bigger - being stuffed full of comfortable furniture she had rescued from various Goodwills and charity shops. It felt practically bursting at the seams - and that was before Vicky had undergone her ritual of stuffing every inch of space with Christmas decorations. The outside light caught the glint of green and red tinsel, the sheen of a silver menorah capturing the low lights of a Christmas beautifully. The entire place smelt of chocolate and cinnamon, as music poured from a radio in her small, attached kitchen. 

It was exceptionally busy for Oz’s taste - but he couldn’t deny that it felt homely, as his anxieties almost washed away. “Thank you again, Vicky,” he said, stepping in and wheeling his small suitcase to the side of her couch. He offered Vicky a smile - as much as he could with no mouth, at least - before turning his attention to his messenger bag. 

“Don’t mention it, Oz,” Vicky said, acting as if offering already limited living space was no big deal to the Fearling, “but I might have to charge you rent next time.” She flashed a mischevious grin at her friend, the joke obvious in her tone. Oz had tried to pay her back in the early days, but she refused outright. She loved to help her friends - and she adored his company. In her eyes, it was a win-win. 

“Well, speaking of rent,” he countered, finally finding what he was searching for in the messenger bag. As Vicky sighed and began to protest, he procured a small and battered blue tin - which he passed to Vicky. “It’s not money, it’s just a small gift to say thank you. Please just take it, these took me all night.” 

“Took you-” Vicky began, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Oz had made something? She took the tin from Oz and pried open the lid to find- “Gingerbread monsters.” She let the words slip from her mouth with a soft and warm affection. He really shouldn’t have - but she couldn’t deny that she was touched. “Thank you, Oz - that’s so sweet.” She smiled and leaned in again, hugging him with one arm for a moment. He returned the gesture, waving with his hand to signal that it was no big deal. 

Vicky took a moment to look through the various creatures he had made, looking for the cutest one to eat first. For a moment, she was convinced she saw a pair of cookies - seemingly stuck together by the hand - which resembled her and Oz and she held it up to the light. Oz, noticing the movement, turned to look at the cookie and seemed genuinely startled. 

“I didn’t even make cookies like that,” he insisted - a flush of redness muddying the black shadows that formed his cheeks. 

“Uh huh,” Vicky teased, raising an eyebrow. “It’ll take more than baked goods before I hold your hand, mister. I’m the sort of girl who needs to be _wooed._ ” With a sly smile at her flustered friend, she went to take a bite of the cookie - not before jokingly running her tongue up the thigh of the gingerbread Oz. As she chewed, her eyes widened in surprise. “Though, that said, these would definitely be a good opener.”

Oz, however, acknowledged little of this. His brain was suddenly full of flushed screaming. He legitimately didn’t make two cookies like that - even if he wanted to tell Vicky about feelings, this would be a weird way to do it - but then who- 

The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks, as he felt the shuffling shadows of detached personas in his mind. One of his phobias did. Of-fucking-course. He’d kill them if he could for this embarrassment. 

As he faded back in, he realised his sheepiness must have been infectious - because it was clear across Vicky’s face, as she brushed away crumbs with one hand and adjusted the loose jumper that had slipped to expose her shoulder with the other. “That really was very sweet, Oz. Thank you.” 

“S-sure thing!” he replied, hoping his own awkwardness didn’t translate. “It just didn’t feel right to not do anything, you know?” 

She nodded then, her natural smile returning before she shuffled off to the kitchen - no doubt trying to generate as much static through her absurdly thick and fluffy socks as she could. “I was starting to make some hot cocoa. I assume I can tempt you?” 

Well, it certainly would explain the smells infusing her apartment. He nodded to her, also offering his thanks, as he began to manoeuvre his belongings out of the way. As he did so, he simply absorbed the atmosphere of the apartment. Music played gently from a small radio, which Vicky sang along to. 

_“Don’t / Take me to your best friend’s house / Normally we’re making out / Oh yeah!”_ She danced as she sang, stirring the steaming milk and chocolate mixture before her. Oz couldn’t help but suddenly laugh - even though he tried to stop it. She turned to him then, eyes narrowing. “What’s so funny?” Her tone was almost defensive, and he suddenly realised how this looked - and, equally, that Vicky hadn’t realised what was funny.

“The song,” he managed to say, between breathless laughs. “You could’ve _warned_ me that was what was happening…” Vicky stared at him blankly for a minute, before the lightning struck and it dawned on her. He wasn’t teasing her dancing or singing - he was laughing at the _lyrics._

“Oh, shut up, you!” she laughed - as rosy colour sank into her cheeks. “I don’t want you getting your hopes up.” She was pouring the drink by this point, passing a mug over to Oz - not making eye contact with him. The smells, the easy laughter, the mutual feeling of fluster… 

It certainly was Christmas. Oz knew that for certain. 

The two sipped for a moment, just enjoying the warmth and company. “Did you hear about Valerie?” Oz asked as they made eye contact, “That she’s handing out gifts?” 

“Yeah!” Vicky responded, suddenly slipping from quiet contentment to infectious enthusiasm with barely a breath, “I got a gun, Amira got some sort of coupon-”

“Wait, wait, wait-” Oz interrupted - a phobia on his shoulder furiously swinging its arms for attention - as he set his cup down on the counter. “You got a _gun_?” Vicky’s expression betrayed a certain confusion - as to why this was a big deal. They pretty much all had guns, what was weird about this? “All I got was this jumper!” 

Vicky hadn’t truly registered what Oz was referring to - as the Fearling hadn’t taken his coat off yet - but she suddenly questioned how she missed it. Beneath the brown fabric of his coat sat the gaudiest, brightest Christmas jumper imaginable - all the while proclaiming for the world to ‘Suck My Jingle Bells.’ 

“Laugh it up, Vicky.

“N-no!” Vicky protested, biting her lip to refrain from laughing. “It looks- it looks so good! _So_ good! In fact-” she continued, as the giggle did start to break the barricades, “-We should get a photo **right now.** ” 

Oz’s eyes went wide as Vicky reached for her phone. “Don’t you dare take a photo, Vicky,” he warned, backing up out of the kitchenette, “I only wore this so I could be polite, don’t you dare-”

“But Polly would think you look so cute!” A silence fell over the pair at that moment - Vicky still grinning, phone in hand, as Oz locked eyes with her. It was on now. 

He lurched forward, reaching out to try and grab Vicky’s phone, but she slipped past him and backed up into the living space. He caught himself - barely avoiding falling, or smashing his skull on a counter - as he heard the distant _click._ She was trying to bait him - his back was to her, so the picture would be bad. And yet- 

He dove for her again, this time catching her by surprise. Able to now close the gap, he wrapped his hand around her phone and began to wrestle for it. As much as he didn’t want her to send that photo, there was no violence - no real force. It was a playful fight, which was exemplified by Vicky’s laughter. 

The tussle continued for a moment and it seemed it may well end in stalemate - but Oz, still overstretched from his pseudo-dive, lost his footing and fell forwards into Vicky. She let loose a surprised shriek, as the pair tumbled backwards. Thankfully, Vicky had stopped by her couch - so she was at no real risk of injury as she fell onto the well-worn cushioned furniture. 

A risk of embarrassment, however, as Oz fell on top of her… That was another story. He managed to stop himself from falling onto Vicky completely, propping himself up over her, but this was still an… _intimate_ position, of tangled legs and locked eyes. 

It was hard not to blush, the two of them quickly found. Oz quickly tried to scamper off, as Vicky adjusted the loose jumper and sat up. 

“Call it a draw?” she offered meekly, her smile sheepish. Oz nodded, rubbing the back of his head. 

“L-let’s order takeout and watch a dumb movie,” he offered - harkening to their usual tradition, “And forget this ever happened.” 

Not that either ever would, or wanted to - but the social construct that formed their friendship demanded it. After all - it didn’t matter how much they wanted it when they were convinced the other didn’t. They didn’t want to ruin a good thing. 

And, to be truthful, it was a good thing. As awkward as they felt, it soon melted away under the warm sensation of a well-established friendship. They ordered a pizza - far too much for the pair to eat - and settled down to watch the latest entry in **The Hunter on Ash Street** if only to mock the monsters for their awful survival skills in the face of O'Helsing - the infamous Irish Monster Hunter. 

They spent hours simply talking and sharing - though they’d seen each other the day before in school. They spoke of Vicky’s job, and how she would have to go in tomorrow. They spoke of Oz’s plan to visit the park and try his hand at sketching again. They spoke of Prom dresses and suits, of friends and enemies. 

Yet they never seemed to speak about one another, no matter how often the statement would drift to the top. 

The hours flew by. Soon, Oz realised, it was midnight. He should sleep - and Vicky most certainly should. Yet… He paused and listened, and hear soft and gentle snores. 

She already was - lying lightly against him with a blanket across her. If he had lips, he knew his face would be split with a bitter smile. 

He wished Christmas came more than once a year - because he wished this moment was forever. Yet, Oz knew that was childish of him. And so, instead, he elected to simply live in that briefest moment - despite his fears and anxiety. 

He simply put a comforting arm around his best friend and closed his eyes. Perhaps, he thought, Prom would change this. Maybe College, or full-time jobs, would change things. And yet… did he truly want things to change? 

Oz realised that he didn’t know and, equally, Oz realised that - for the first time in a long time - he didn’t truly care. Christmas was a lonely time for him, it was true. He didn’t have much in the way of family to celebrate with. Yet, this tradition had been running for years. Even if he never got to truly tell Vicky how he felt - or even if he confirmed she didn’t feel the same way - he had this. 

Christmas in Monstropolis was always an interesting time. After all, there’s nothing quite so sweet as two lovable dorks - who simply needed to communicate - embracing what they desired most, for a brief moment: one another.


	3. Monster High('s Antics) Never Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom is over for another year - but the leading cast of Monster High have one final challenge: breakfast and breaking the news... For some (looking at you Oz and Vicky), this could be tough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be upfront: I'm not happy with how this chapter is written. While I'm relatively happy with the general story and interactions, the writing style is pretty different and it feels way looser - albeit more appropriate for the tone. I'm not sold - so I'd absolutely love your feedback on this one, because I'm just glad it's done. 
> 
> Once again, thank you to the Monster Prom Discord but, more specifically, my good friends: Taavi, Kiev (who is responsible for the Monster Hunter originating dragon) and Water (who is responsible for the Aaravi x Zoe ship). Thanks for ruining me, you nerds.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Please do leave feedback, it's greatly appreciated and I hope you're all great. 
> 
> P.S. Paniccakes isn't a typo. It started as one, but the idea amused me so much I made it a thing. Don't eat them before a deadline.

 And, like that, a sense of calm returned to Monsteropolis. Prom was over - though the economic and legal repercussions of the event would be felt for generations (or until the three weeks leading to the next Prom, whichever came first). Soon enough, the fires would gutter out, the bodies would be found and the lecherous debauchery would be the foundation for several fantastic pop songs. Yet, for the eight most eligible students of Monster High (plus their four hornball friends, and everyone’s respective dates) one final capstone remained: breakfast at Demogorgan’s Diner in downtown Monsteropolis. 

This wasn’t quite as simple as it seems - as the entire plan revolved around the party actively surviving the events of Prom. Assuming they did, however, it promised to be a good place to reconvene and share tall tales. Plus, Demogorgan’s Diner makes the absolute best paniccakes (which are simply pancakes but with the sugary suffusion of anxiety and dread) in the city. It would serve as the perfect soak for all the alcohol, drugs and hormones they expected to rage through their bodies. 

And so, the pact was made: 7 am, the morning after Monster Prom, they would all make their way to Demogorgan’s for one final, more personal toast. It seemed the fitting thing to do. 

First to arrive was Oz and Vicky. The pair had been somewhat disconnected from the experience everyone else seemed to be having - drugs, alcohol, sex, the odd spot of major felonies - and had, instead, slipped away to talk. 

The revelation that their feelings were mutual was as potent as Polly’s W/C wine, albeit for different reasons. While it was obviously a relief to know that the other shared their feelings, it suddenly brought new fears - if they’d ruin their friendship doing if, if the ship had sailed - and disappointment - like how much time they’d missed out together. They wanted to kick themselves for not seeing the signs, they wanted to go back and shake themselves into believing… but they knew they couldn’t. 

Yet, as they slid into the diner booth, they knew they could take the first step into a new day - and do it together. That sounded appealing. 

“Hey noobs,” a familiar voice greeted, sliding into the booth facing the pair and interrupting their optimistic melancholy. His sharp red face flashed a toothsome grin at the pair, as he stretched - spreading his arms wide. He wore a simple black tuxedo, with a white shirt parting ever so slightly - likely unbuttoned due to the heat that poured off the figure in droves. 

It was, in fact, Damien LaVey, bitches.

As both Vicky and Oz took in (and, more to the point, enjoyed) the sight of their friend, a scratching began in Oz’s mind. He recognised the sensation as a phobia - trying to draw his attention - and once he turned his eyes from how Damien’s parted tuxedo shirt revealed just enough of his chest, it was easy to see why the phobia - Haemophobia - was determined to get Oz’s attention. 

Damien, if you’ll pardon the pun, looked like hell. Blood had splattered across his tuxedo - though one couldn’t be quite sure who previously owned the blood - and his face was crisscrossed in bruises, cuts and gnashes. 

Oz hated how much the demon prince suited the rugged, battle-worn look - but he was still curious about how the injuries came to be. After all, Damien was his closest friend (besides Vicky) and, the last he’d seen him, Dahlia had jumped him to battle as rivals. He’d been pretty all together at that point - and that fight had been broken up. What exactly had happened while they were gone?

“Damien, you uh… You okay?” Oz asked, cocking his head slightly. Damien fixed Oz with a quizzical look, as Vicky began to notice the signs herself. 

“What?” he asked, “It’s just a tuxedo-” 

“Not  _ that _ ,” Vicky interrupted, “You’re all bloody and bruised.” At this, Damien looked down - and almost seemed to notice the splatter of blood for the first time.

“That motherfucker! This was a fuckin’ rental! Fuckin’ bleeding on my fuckin’ tuxedo!” 

You know what, somehow that explained everything and yet nothing at all. Seemingly, Damien was in a fight - which was unsurprising - but it still didn’t answer any of the pressing questions - like who he was fighting. 

Oz and Vicky gave Damien a moment to seethe and curse at his lost deposit, before broaching the topic. 

“Who was I- Oh yeah, you guys disappeared.” Damien looked almost mad for a second before realisation hit him like a thunderbolt. “Wait, Oz, that means you don’t know.”

That was accurate about a lot of things when describing Oz, to be fair, as he’d spent the past three weeks in Gym or the Auditorium as opposed to Class, but Damien was correct. “You don’t know that I pulled off the Five!” 

Vicky’s eyes narrowed in slight confusion, as Oz was stunned. “You  _ did _ ?” he asked, almost breathlessly. This was unheard of!

“Did what?” Vicky asked, suddenly realising she was the only one who did not have any idea what was going on. What was the Five? 

“The Five, Vicky!” Oz repeated, with an almost maniacal tone. “It’s been Damien’s ambition since Damien and I became friends!” 

At this point, Damien leant forward - propping his elbows on the desk. “The Five is simple. Me, and five people who I’ve either fought or fucked on that night. Doesn’t matter how many of each, so long as I get at least one of each.” 

While the significance of this event was somewhat lessened to Vicky, Oz knew it was a big deal to Damien. It wasn’t something he truly understood but Damien was a close friend of his and he wanted him to be happy. 

Besides, neither he nor Vicky managed to smash that night, so he was doing better than them. 

“So, how many each?” Vicky asked before mischief glinted in her eyes and she smiled slyly. “And who, more importantly.” 

For a brief moment, the demon prince’s face flushed even redder than the streaks of blood on his cheeks. He was suddenly bashful as if torn between not wanting to kiss and tell (or brawl and blab) and wanting to bask in the approval of his friends. After a moment, his desire to boast seemed to win out. 

“You know how Miles has been giving me shit for the past few weeks before I broke his maze?” he asked before Vicky and Oz nodded in the affirmation that yes, they did know the asshole minotaur from Eldritch Incantations 201. “Well, he mouthed off so I  _ might  _ have said something like ‘I’ll kick your ass, cowbell,’ and he got three of his friends.” 

“You came off pretty lightly for four on one…” Oz noted, earning a scornful glare from Damien. “I’m just saying, Damien. Miles is pretty beefy.” 

“It was four on two,” Damien corrected, grinning. “You know the transfer student from Astera?” 

“Oh, Kiev!” Vicky volunteered, “I sat with him at lunch before. He’s nice. And cute.” Oz looked at Vicky at that, to which she simply shrugged. “You know I’m right.”

“That’s beside the point,” he protested - meekly. It  _ was  _ true. They didn’t expect a dragon to be fluffy. It was hot. 

“Right, Kiev,” Damien agreed, cutting through the forming debate with a confused glance at both of them - as the gears became to tick in his mind. “He happened to be nearby and the dude suddenly pulled out a fuckin’ glaive and some sort of… ballistic insect? He did some flying flip cuts. It was fucking  **metal.** ”

For a brief moment, Oz wondered who the fuck let a dragon with a glaive and ballistic insects into Prom - but it quickly dawned on him that it was likely to be the same individual who allowed hyenas to roam the bathrooms, Vera to run a crime empire from the classrooms and Damien to actually attend. The fact any of them lived this long astounded him. 

“So, that means Kiev was-” Vicky began before Damien answered the unspoken statement with a wide grin and a slow nod.   
  
“Number five was a badass dragon. We’re gonna get lunch next week. See where this goes.” The demon stated this with such finality that both Oz and Vicky couldn’t help but be impressed. It must be nice to be so bold: to just embrace an idea and run with it, whatever the consequences.

“So, you two idiots are being weird, who walked in on the other fucking?” Damien suddenly asked, eyes blazing with twisted curiousity. The (relatively simple) question left the pair reeling, staggering, stumbling for an excuse. curiosity

“W-weird? No, absolutely not-”

“We wouldn’t- that didn’t happen, what happened is-”

“You’re just full of hormones, that’s it-”   
  
“We wouldn’t fuck- I mean walk in on each other.”

As the pair fumbled, the demon’s grin slipped from his face and his jaw hung open and loose in…  _ shock _ ?

“You two finally hooked up!” he said at last, offering the pair the sweet escape from their own shambolic defence they craved… only the escape was into another, totally seperate, flaming room.

“We- no!” Oz protested, earning a slightly wounded look from Vicky. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, that’s not what I’m saying, I just-” the Fearling’s words died away, being replaced by an exasperated noise. 

“We just… we decided to try… dating. That’s all,” Vicky explained, sitting up just a little bit straighter in defiance. “We realised some stuff and decided to try it. No sex or anything weird... “

“One makeout session,” Oz meekly offered, almost as if trying to appease Damien, to which Vicky nodded. 

“Yes, okay, one makeout session which  _ ruined  _ my hair, thank you.” For a moment, Vicky tried to act affronted but she flashed a soft smile to Oz. Not that he needed it - the pair were putty in one another’s hands. He knew she enjoyed it, and she knew he had. 

“Good,” Damien said simply, “Took you long enough. We’ve been trying to get you two to date for years.” 

As the words slipped from Damien’s mouth, the trio was interrupted by a soul-splitting noise - one that manifested as dread and reality-bending decay even in Oz, a being who could arguably rival the source for power.

_**“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~!”** _

“Hi, Zoe-” Oz began as a greeting before the eldritch cutie-pie closed the distance to their table. Her multitude of eyes focused on Damien intently (with one or two casting suspicious glances at Vicky and Oz, which would be unsettling if they didn’t love their classmate so deeply). 

“Did you just say they're _dating_?” Zoe asked, almost breathlessly.

“We are… right here,” Vicky mumbled, as Oz simply took her arm in his. She leaned into him then - knowing that Zoe would soon ensure everyone knew. After all, she was currently rhyming off the various fanfics and AUs she had which could've been most similar to this (and, for reference, it was Monster Highly Classified, where Vicky and Oz fell in love as rival agents during a charity gala). Yet, truthfully, they didn’t actually mind that. It would be nice to bask in the spotlight for a chance, for a brief moment. There were times - though they never really vocalised it - that they felt like side characters for their friends. 

Tonight was different. Tonight was their own.

“Yup,” he grinned, turning to face Zoe before his smile dropped and his brow furrowed. “Is that the Sla-” 

“Aaravi,” Zoe quickly corrected. She took a brief step back and wrapped her tentacle around her protectively. “She’s my date. Don’t be mean or-”

“No one will be mean,” Vicky interrupted before Zoe tore open a rend in the barriers between sanity and insanity to prove a point. Damien’s face seemed to protest but he figured it might not be worth the fight. After all, he didn’t really care about her beyond her desire to kill him.

“If she’s cool with me, I’m cool with her,” Damien finally said, shattering the tension with uncharacteristic tact. Must’ve been Kiev’s sexual influence. Eh, probably not.

Oz waved at Aaravi warmly - hinting at a deeper backstory and friendship than could be explored in this single event - and the pair went to sit at the next booth. Despite Damien’s peace offering, it was probably for the best.

“Alright, fuck it, I want paniccakes,” Damien said to cut the silence, sliding out of the booth to go and place an order. “I’m starving.” 

“I hear Kiev gave you some good cardio,” Zoe offered, teasing from her table, “Makes sense.” 

The pair began to bicker and tease, as more and more of their friends began to filter in. Individually - like Scott and Polly - or in groups, like Liam and Brian, or Amira and Valerie. 

They were all together - and both Oz and Vicky wished they could bottle this moment, to keep it forever. And yet… the pair didn’t truly appreciate this but nothing had to change. 

Tomorrow would bring a new challenge, a new frontier for idiot hornballs to conquer. Yet it wasn’t the end of this chapter - but a new continuation. 

Damien would still be a close friend to Oz, despite their differences. Vicky and Zoe would bond even more than their initial friendship. They’d fall in love, out of love, around love. They’d fight, dance, party and cry. 

And as Oz reached out, squeezing Vicky’s hand and leading her towards the counter, they realised they’d do it together.

They’d do it together: young, unafraid and ready to start.


End file.
